Ask The Rain
by RK9
Summary: In order to cope with her problems with Danny, Lindsay calls an old friend for advice, and receives it. Strongly implied D/L. Fans of Love on Canvas will be pleased to know that Bayden makes an appearance here. Concrit and comments most welcome.


**Disclaimer:** Since last I checked, I wasn't Antony E. Zuiker, Ann Donahue or Carol Mendolsohn… nor does my father own CBS or whatnot… so yeah, it isn't mine. I wish. But Bayden is very much mine. The song that inspired this is "Love Gives, Love Takes", by The Corrs, and I used the chorus somewhere below.

**Author's notes: **Some of you may recognize Bayden's character from my earlier CSI: Miami fic, Love on Canvas, in which he is a sketch artist/CSI who plots along with Speed and Delko to get Horatio and Calleigh together, and ultimately succeeds, though he and the boys didn't have much to do with it in the end. In the epilogue of that fic, his artist hand ends up amputated because of an accident of a crime scene, and though I promised a sequel I never got around to it because of lack of time and muse. Well, I thought I'd bring him back, because a bunny bit… and he was always a favorite OC of mine. Check out my other fic if you want to know more about him…

I have not seen all of s4 yet, but I have heard about how Danny cheated on Lindsay with Rikki, and I've only seen up until the ep where Ruben died… but this is still set after he cheats on her, and you'll all have to forgive me for any facts that don't match the show's info, and for not being completely up-to-date in D/L verse. I visited Wikipedia to find out what happened, but it wasn't very detailed… Also, I am not completely a D/L shipper… I am more of a Mac/Lindsay shipper or a Flack/Lindsay shipper… but D/L is also right there in my heart even if not as strongly as Mactana or FM Radio…. So I hope I did it justice. :) Well, here's goes!

Ps - This entire thing is unbetaed.

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**Ask The Rain**

_(Somewhere in Manhattan, Lindsay's apartment)_

Lindsay Monroe liked the rain.

She liked listening to the raindrops falling, loved the natural music they made as the made their way from sky to ground, splattering on roofs and buildings and streets and any other available surface that happened to come in their way. She'd danced in the rain before in her younger days, getting wet as she whirled and twirled, laughing wildly and having the time of her life, ending up on her behind in a puddle when one of her friends had danced too energetically and swung her accidentally off her feet. She hadn't minded though, because the rain had whispered a sort of apology into her ear, and she'd known then that she'd found a friend.

After that, the rain had comforted her when she'd been down, and when her grandmother had died and no one else had been able to cheer her up, the rain had made her smile, tracing patterns on the glass of her bedroom window on its way down to feed the soil and plants. The pattering of silver drops on the roof of her home had told her that the rain grieved too, and after the funeral, it had poured buckets and rained cats and dogs, and she'd known that the rain cried with her for her loss.

When she'd come to New York, it had rained the night before she started work, not torrentially, but a light, cheerful drizzle that had seemed as though the rain was telling her it was here too, and she wouldn't be alone. When she'd had to go back to Montana, it had rained upon arrival, with dark storm clouds, and she'd felt that her friend knew how she felt and was saying that it was on her side, and it would help her through the trial.

And now, it was raining again, and the doorbell had just sounded. Lindsay glanced at the sky – no, this was just a drizzle… the rain had brought her an old friend. Turning off the stove and wiping her hands on a towel, she headed to the door and peeped out through the hole – yup, hair the color of straw, and warm green eyes that were filled with gentleness and patience. He raised his left hand to knock, and Lindsay grinned, opening the door.

Bayden Michaels' hand stopped in mid-knock, and he grinned back at her as he greeted her cheerfully: "Hey, Monroe!"

"Hey, Bay," she answered, genuinely pleased to see him, and before she knew it he had wrapped her in a big bear hug, and his friendly scent had surrounded her as tears fell down her face. She'd missed him – and she needed a friend right now.

"What's wrong?" Bayden looked concernedly at her, and she choked on a laugh, smiling through the tears. Yes, Bayden was exactly the person she needed right now – few people these days still retained the old skills of listening and giving comfort where it was needed, but Bayden was one of them. He shook his head at her, frowning, and picked up his bag in his left hand as he ushered her back into her apartment. His manner turning brisk, he tossed the bag into her spare room – he always slept there whenever he came to visit – and settled Lindsay on the couch with a cushion to hug and a box of tissues while he moved to inspect the delicious aroma that was coming from the kitchen.

"Jacket potatoes in Mom's special sauce, and spaghetti and meatballs," she managed to say, mopping her face with a tissue and blowing her nose. "I was almost done."

He nodded. "I'll finish up. You sit there and rest, and then we'll eat, and then you'll talk," he ordered.

"You just had a long flight," she protested, half-getting up.

Bayden stepped around the corner and peered around the kitchen doorway, giving her a Look with a capital 'L'. Coming from a young man who was now wearing the frilly apron that her mother had given her several Christmases ago around his waist, and brandishing a ladle in his right hand, it was hard to be intimidated, but she dutifully replaced her butt on the sofa and sighed, accepting the 'mother-henning' in the spirit of love that it was being given.

_Thanks, rain_, she thought gratefully, smiling again as Bayden cheerfully began telling her about the flight, and how somehow he'd set off the metal detectors when he'd landed in New York and nearly been swarmed by airport security who'd thought that his service pistol was a bomb, and that he was planning on picking up a new supply of travel sickness pills for the trip home in a week's time when he headed back to Miami…

And outside, as Bayden's voice filled her small apartment with warmth and love and joy, the rain still fell, a silent guardian that would watch over them both tonight.

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After dinner, it was time to get down to the reason that she had called and asked Bayden if he would come over and stay for a while, the reason that she'd told him that she was in desperate need of an old, dear friend who knew her almost inside out. Bayden and his family had once lived in Bozeman, Montana – that was when his father had still been around, and his brother Bailey had still been alive. They'd moved off to Miami to be with Bayden's mother's family after Bailey's death, but later they'd met again in college, before Bayden had gone to university back in his hometown of Miami. They'd kept in touch all these years, with Bayden dropping by for visits, whether in Montana or here in New York, or with her stopping by his house in Miami for Christmas or other important festivals.

So yes, they were pretty close. Lindsay grinned as the young man burped, patting his stomach and glancing apologetically at her over his glass of orange juice.

"Sorry."

"No prob." She waited for him to take their plates to the kitchen and return before she started. "Thanks for coming, Bay."

"No worries," he grunted, slightly embarrassed in typical male fashion at any hint of him showing concern. "But I haven't actually done anything yet."

"Yeah…" Lindsay studied her glass of wine, wondering if she needed a refill to bolster her spirit, but deciding that she didn't. She trusted Bayden, and he trusted her.

"I told you about my co-worker, Danny," she said at last, and he nodded, sipping his drink as he listened, eyes fixed intently on her. He didn't say anything, that wasn't Bayden's way, and she knew he wouldn't judge until the whole story had been told. Steeling herself, she went on: "I also told you that I started dating him."

"You told me a little more than that," Bayden answered simply, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Thing is, we've been dating ever since that incident I told you about, that happened before he ended up in a hostage situation…"

"The one where he let you have a snow day?"

Lindsay smiled, remembering the scribbled note on the blackboard that had told her in a few words that Danny knew her pretty well, too. "Yeah." Then, recalling recent events, she sighed. "But things have been going downhill, Bay, somewhere between then, and after this recent case where Danny's kid neighbor was killed…"

Bayden leaned forward, cradling his mug carefully with both hands. His right sleeve, usually long and worn all the way to the wrists, was now unbuttoned and folded back to his elbows, revealing the metallic smoothness of his prosthetic hand… it always made her a little sad to see it. He'd lost his hand in an accident, and Bayden had once been a talented artist. The hand looked normal from the wrist to fingers, but where it connected to his arm, there was no mistaking the metal and plastic of the fake limb.

But Bayden wasn't worried about his arm right now. His green eyes waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts and go on with her story.

"I told you about that little boy who was killed in a bodega robbery that went wrong, Bay," she sighed, seeing the still figure of Ruben Sandoval lying on the table in the morgue in her mind's eye. "He was Danny's neighbor, and Danny was bringing him back after a bike blessing ceremony or something. I dunno… but since that day, things went from bad to worse between us. He pushed me away, Bay, when I tried to comfort him, and he started becoming aloof and withdrawn, sort of distant. And then he forgot my birthday, and he never even really apologized for it. He asked me out for dinner a few times, but never showed up, always cancelling for some reason or another. And then I found," he throat caught, "I found out that he had an affair with the little boy's mother, Rikki. I called him, and I didn't know, but she was in his apartment, and he blew me off, Bay, without telling me about her and what he'd done."

Bayden looked at her. "How did you find out?"

"I went over to his place, and he wasn't in, but a neighbor mentioned it to me." Mrs Hennessey, Danny's seventy-year-old neighbor from down the hall of his floor, who never missed a thing that happened in any of the apartments near her. The old woman had enjoyed letting Lindsay know of Danny's little indiscretion, and Lindsay had had to fight not to let her see how hurt she'd been – that would have given the old busybody even more happiness, and Lindsay's pride had forbidden her to please the old crone in any way.

Bayden nodded, and leaned back again, long legs stretching out beneath the table, waiting for more.

"I confronted him. Told him that I'd been stupid to fall in love with him, and promised him that I'd fall back out," she went on. Somehow it was both easier and harder to talk now – maybe the tears were helping the story along. "He tried to apologize later, but we got called away on a case. And a bit later, something else happened, and I left a piece of evidence unattended, and that caused Mac to call me in for a scolding. I was lucky I got off with even that, but I was honest. I told Mac I regretted ever falling in love with my co-worker."

Taking a swig of wine and accepting Bayden's handkerchief to blow her nose and wipe her tears, she finished, "And two nights ago, he called me, and said he was sorry that he'd pushed me away. I asked him: 'Do you know how hard it is for me to love you?' And he said I should come over to his place and let him know." She scowled and fought the urge to whack the table, although her hands balled into fist almost automatically.

"And…?"

"I said no, of course." She sighed. "But oh, Bayden… _I can't_."

The young man got to his feet and was over at her side as she collapsed, shuddering, into his arms, breathing in the clean, warm scent that she had come to associate with four main things: Bayden, hope, friendship… and love of a different kind.

Bayden said nothing until her shaking ended and the tears stopped. The rain had grown heavier outside, and Lindsay sniffled as they moved over to the living room, allowing her friend to settle her on the couch again.

"Linds," Bayden said quietly, handing her the same box of tissues that she'd been given earlier. "I'm going to be my usual, frank and honest self, and tell you something that my mother told me shortly after she remarried and had my little sister, Amy. And I want you to listen to me, and don't say anything until I'm done if you can, all right?"

Blowing her nose with a loud snorting noise, she nodded. She remembered Bayden's little sister Amy, now a teenager who was just starting high school. Bayden had not liked her at all when she'd been born, but it hadn't taken long before he had come around and become one of the most loving older brothers that Lindsay had ever seen.

"I was a kid," Bayden started, stating it baldly, in his matter-of-fact way. "My dad had left us, and my mom had gotten married again, and everyone seemed to love my baby sister far more than they liked me. I was hurting and jealous and upset, and my mom noticed – see, I threw a huge temper tantrum one night after dinner and stormed from the room after shouting that I hated my little sister almost as much as I hated my life. And my mom came up after I'd cooled down a little, and we had a little talk. She talked a little about my brother and my dad, and how much she missed Bailey and my father, who left us. And I asked her, weirdly enough, to tell me what loving someone really meant. And I never forgot what she said."

"What?" asked Lindsay, curious now. Bayden smiled sadly, sitting down next to her on the couch and gazing into the distance at a memory only he saw as he recited:

"Love is many things, Bayden, and it's difficult to explain, especially since you're so young right now. But… well. There's this song:

'_Love breaks and love divides,_

_Love laughs and love can make you cry,_

_I can't believe the ways – that love can give,_

_And love can take away.'"_

He glanced at Lindsay, having sung the chorus of a song that sounded vaguely familiar. She nodded, a lump in her throat as she processed the words, trying to figure out what he was trying to tell her. He nodded.

"I was much older when I finally understood what she was trying to say. Basically, it was that love was a mixture of good and bad, and sometimes someone whom you love very much can hurt you really badly. But you forgive and forget, and why? Because you love him, and you're willing to take that mixture of happy and sad that he gives to you. That's love, Lindsay, and my mother taught me that it's not a sign of weakness like people think. _'Don't be a doormat, don't be weak,'_ they say, well… bull-shit. You aren't being a doormat if you forgive – you're still strong and independent, and you know that if the hurting keeps going on, then there's a limit to how much you'll be willing to take, and your love for him will guide you into leaving him, for your own sake. But there's no shame in being willing to forgive the mistakes of someone you love… after all, we probably made mistakes too, or we will in the future."

"Love can give, but love can take away.. you get what I'm trying to say, Lindsay?" Bayden looked earnestly at her, wiping a little sweat from his forehead.

Lindsay smiled back. "I think so." And she did. "Not everything, maybe – but you've given me a lot to think about…"

Bayden smiled. He followed her gaze to the window, where the cadence of the raindrops had lightened somewhat.

"You still like the rain, huh?" he asked, a knowing, understanding look on his face. Lindsay blushed, but nodded. Bayden was the only person who knew of her relationship with rain – she'd felt silly telling other people, because they either didn't understand or thought she was crazy… but Bayden understood.

"It's still here, taking care of me," she whispered.

Bayden laughed, and rose to collect her wine glass and his own mug. "Here's a thought," he said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen to place the glasses in the sink. "Do you know Who it is that sends the rain, Lindsay? Cause I reckon He's the One who's really been keeping an eye on you this whole time…"

And at the last word in his sentence, the rain stopped. Looking out at the slowly clearing sky with wonder, Lindsay smiled. Pulling her feet up onto the sofa and hugging them close to her chest, she basked in the glow of friendship and love, and pictured Danny as she pondered what she'd just been told. Staring at her phone, she silently asked the rain if maybe she should risk giving him another chance. After all, she was sure that the rain knew about love, since it had shown her plenty during her lifetime.

And she had a feeling that she knew what the rain would tell her, too.

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Do let me know what you think. Comments and concrit only, please... don't waste my time and yours sending flames - if you don't like the flavor of the tea, don't spoil the pot for others, eh?

Kudos!

RK9.


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